


Souls Aboard

by Yekith



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Action, Afterlife, Drama, Fantasy, M/M, Romance, they're dead from the start but the fic's not about how they died
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-13
Updated: 2012-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 11:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yekith/pseuds/Yekith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The water appeared steel-colored where the moonlight hit it, the rest giving the impression of a mass of tar. Through the mist that lurked the shore, Frank distinguished the shape of a boat.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Souls Aboard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Melody](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Melody).



> The story was inspired by a song from the 80's ("Don't Pay the Ferryman", by Chris de Burgh) that my sister and I have in a compilation we always listen to on the holidays (although not Holidays related). The song is based on a classic legend, but I didn't look that up at all because I wanted to use my own ideas. [Listen here.](http://www.4shared.com/audio/u-emCksM/01_Dont_Pay_The_Ferryman-wwwro.htm?aff=7637829)  
> The closest to sex you'll find in this story is a non-detailed handjob scene, just a warning! xD

Frank could hardly see where he was going as he ran along the muddy road. There didn't seem to be anything on any side of it, nothing his eyes could discern, and he wasn't going to risk falling into some bottomless pit. The only light he got -when he did get any- was that of an abnormally pale moon seeping through a thick veil of gray clouds over a sky as black as Frank's surroundings. He didn't hear anyone chasing after him, but he had the feeling there was. The urge to run wouldn't leave him, even if his legs were cramped and it was hard to breathe. Why did he still need to breathe when he was dead, after all?

He had been given no map or indications. However, two images were engraved in his mind and, just as a freezing breeze made him close his eyes, he knew he was close. He just _knew_ it. He jerked to a stop and when he looked towards both sides, the left called to him. Actually called his name with a distant, eery voice.

Frank didn't want to enter the darkness. He had no idea what could happen to him that was worse than being dead, but his instincts and fear were intact and screaming louder than the voice that called him. "You just do _not_ step into what you don't know and you can't see", they told him.

He was about to turn around when he sensed it again. Someone. Something, chasing him. Letting out a terrified, desperate whine, he left the road and headed left. Thankfully, he didn't fall. The ground felt firmer under his soles, and what he assumed was tall grass caressed his legs through the rips on his jeans.

He couldn't remember when he'd closed his eyes, but he dared open them now. In spite of how it had looked from the road, Frank was surprised to see it was more luminous there. Not as much as he wished, but enough to spot what he had been searching for: the weirdly-shaped hill.

There was no way in hell he would have neared that dilapidated pile of dirt and weeds in a normal situation. But in the one he was in, maybe hell was precisely what awaited him if he didn't. Or was _this_ the way to hell? He didn't think so, at least if legends were something to go by. He never thought getting to heaven would be so scary, though. It was probably part of the trial.

A good thing about the hill was that it wasn't too high or steep. Frank was able to mostly just walk his way up, the dying bushes offering a good -if painful- handhold. He managed to make it to the top in no more than ten minutes. Using the hem of his t-shirt to wipe the blood off his hands, he carefully walked to the opposite edge. The distance was no bigger than a block, and the only trouble he encountered were some vines wrapping around his ankles and small moths fluttering in front of his face. When he got there, though, he didn't like what he saw.

"Oh fuck, I knew the way up seemed too easy," Frank's own voice sounded strange in that place, like it was half swallowed by the dense atmosphere. It also only held sadness and resignation as he looked down at the slide-like slope. A extremely sharp slope which was clearly impossible to descend by foot.

Wanting to confirm that he was on the right track, he raised his eyes and looked forward. Only a few feet from where the hill ended and behind a line of willow and poplar trees, there was a river. The water appeared steel-colored where the moonlight hit it, the rest giving the impression of a mass of tar. Through the mist that lurked the shore, Frank distinguished the shape of a boat.

"The ferry," he whispered, shivering. It didn't fit the mental image he'd always had from the stories he heard. This wasn't one of those small wooden boats that men pushed through the water with oars. It was actually a big motor boat -or small ship; closer to what you'd expect a modern ferry to look like. It was the right one, though. He was certain of that, and he needed to get there and board it.

As if his thoughts had awoken something in the night, the sky darkened and a long howl was heard. The wind picked up and Frank could swear there were voices in the air. They sounded imperative and were too many for him to understand what they were all saying, so he concentrated on a few.

"Don't!"

"Don't do it!"

"Do what?" Frank asked. "I _have_ to go down!"

"That you do."

"Just don't do it!"

"Do WHAT?" he screamed at the sky. But the voices quited down as the rain began to fall on his face.

Deciding to ignore the unclear warnings, he took a last glance at the slope. It comforted him to think that his boyfriend had gone through this not long ago. And although he wasn't religious, he chose to believe that they'd be together again soon. He just had to cross that river and Gerard would be waiting for him. He could do it.

Frank sat on the edge of the slope and, counting three, he slowly pushed himself down on his forearms and feet. He tried to lock his sneakers on little rocks and protruding roots, but the rain had made it all slippery and he slid fast for a good stretch. Rocks stabbed his back and ass. Breaking branches and thorn shrubs teared up his clothes and scratched his skin. When it finally seemed like he had stopped falling, he took some seconds to recover from the pain and continued at his own pace.

He was practically in tears when he reached horizontal ground, his whole body throbbing. The sight in front of him was what made him carry on. Nothing else would hurt once he was on the other side of that river. It had to work that way, right?

It was only when Frank made his way towards it that a wooden post with a lamp materialized on the shore. The sudden light made the ferry look less like a ghostly shadow and more like a tangible body of metal. Frank could tell it had once been gray, or at least part of it had. You could still see some paint remnants around the windows. Anything else had been conquered by rust, some spots corroded to such point that they were falling apart. The sides of the boat, where it met the inky water, were covered by moss of a deep green color. The main, central part reminded Frank of a double-decker bus. There was a slim corridor between that and the railing, connecting the front and back decks.

Frank couldn't pinpoint why the boat needed to be so big when all it did was transport souls -he had to accept that's what he was now- one by one. He had never heard of collective transportation. How they avoided having a lot of souls waiting for their turn, was a mystery to him.

Even if now corrupted by time, Frank had been right to guess this ferry looked like a modern one. However, as he walked along the shore to examine the vessel better, the mist dissipated and a contradicting view was revealed to him. Like old ships, this ferry had the helm outside on the rear deck. The person still gripping the wheel was wearing a black raincoat with the hood on, so Frank couldn't see their face.

"Uh...excuse me?" he called.

The dark figure turned around. At first glance, Frank thought he'd seen a skull. Self-suggestion most probably, that being what he _expected_ to see. But no, the ferryman wasn't a skeleton, which didn't mean he wasn't scary. His skin was wrinkled and ashen. The hair sticking out of the hood gray and stiff. His nearly-white blue eyes pierced Frank as the old man neared the railing with a lantern in his hand.

"Oh...pardon me, son. I was distracted," he said with a deep, raspy voice. Smiling; the few teeth still in place stained and cracked. "Give me a second."

He shook an apparently empty, closed hand and a roll of paper uncurled from it to the floor. "Mmmm...here it is. Frank Anthony Iero, right?"

Frank was trembling now. "Y-yes."

"Alright, Mr. Iero. Come aboard." As the ferryman finished his words, a section of the railing disappeared. A plank landed at Frank's feet; smaller pieces of wood nailed to it to serve as steps.

Patting his back pocket to ensure he still had the two coins he'd been sent with, the boy decided it was best to do things quickly.

Once on the boat, Frank left his long hair fall on his face, avoiding to look at the old man in front of him. He gave him chills. But not wanting to see worked against him, and he almost screamed when he felt bony fingers grab his shoulder.

"Make yourself comfortable, son. You can go in there if the rain bothers you. I'm used to it."

Nodding, Frank walked on the opposite direction to the man, heading for the covered part of the ferry. He had only walked a few steps when the boat veered violently, making him stumble and drop to his knees. He stayed there on the damp deck until things felt stable enough to get up.

When he finally entered the first level of the cabin normally destined for the passengers, he frowned when noticing it was freezing in there. It made no sense, but nothing did anymore if he really thought about it.

The place was poorly illuminated with a gas lamp. All of the seats were destroyed. Most of them were either missing the backrest or the seat itself. The few ones that still conserved something other than their iron structure, looked like they had been ripped apart with a knife. The blue upholstery hung around in shreds; and the dampened, foam rubber filler was spread all over the worn out floor. Half of the windows had no glasses. The other half's were so filthy that even in the brightest day one wouldn't have been able to see through.

He was about to walk away when he saw something shiny on the floor and crouched to pick it up. Upon examining it, Frank's face changed. "Oh my God...," he kissed the object with tears in his eyes. It was Gerard's ring. His engagement ring. "Baby...is this a sign that we'll be together again? Please tell me you're alright and I'll see you soon, tell me all this is worth it."

Placing the silver band on the same finger he wore his, Frank fled that unsettling sector and leaned on the railing. He smiled when he saw bright lights on the faraway shore, and held the hand that carried the rings close to his heart. Just then, as if he wasn't allowed a moment of hope, a lightning flashed in the sky and a thunder roared with such a force that the rail vibrated under Frank's fingers. The rain got heavier and the wind got stronger, its sound mixing up with that of rusty hinges and...what was that noise that came from the water? It was some kind of rattling. Bones. Was it bones?

Frank had his answer when he watched the river and discovered skeletal faces observing him from the water, mouths stretched out in terror. Skeletal arms reached up, like asking to be salvaged. The voices he had heard before returned, but one was now calling his name.

"Frank..."

"Don't..."

"Don't do it!"

"STOP IT! LEAVE ME ALONE!" Frank screamed, crying with fear. He pushed himself off the rail and his back collided with somebody. He spun fast on his heels, ending up face to face with the old ferryman.

"Oh, sorry to scare you, Mr. Iero. I came to inform you that there's some trouble ahead, so you'll have to pay for your trip now."

Frank had no idea what the man meant or how it linked to him having to pay sooner, but it made no difference anyway. Pay now, pay later, who cared?

Well, the voices apparently did. They got louder as soon as Frank attempted to fish the coins out of his pocket.

"DON'T DO IT!"

"DON'T DO IT!"

"FRANK, NO!"

Frank froze, the last voice especially hitting something in him. He stared at the ferryman with huge, terrified eyes, breathing rapidly and shaking his head. "I...I don't know..."

"Oh, son," the man spoke with pity, making Frank flinch as he ran a hand through his soaking wet hair. "It's the voices, isn't it? Yeah...it is. They always do that, but you must not listen. They are the voices of those who refused to pay, and now they want you to join them..."

"Ar-are they in hell?" Frank questioned, sniffing.

"What do you think, boy? Come on, you must pay me now so I can go back to fighting this storm," the ferryman shouted over the thunders. He was getting visibly impatient, eying the approaching shore with certain worry.

What the guy said made sense, Frank thought. And he just wanted to arrive and get off that boat. So he blocked the voices and got the coins out, depositing them on the old man's waiting hand shakily.

"Thank you very much. Mr. Iero. Enjoy your trip for a little longer." The ferryman patted Frank's back, smirked and walked away.

Not much happened for the next twenty minutes other than rain falling, thunders resonating and the wind yowling. Although, less time than that might have past in reality. Frank's watch hadn't worked since he departed from the world of the living, so all he could do is calculate time mentally. He had never been good at that.

From where he was standing -near the left railing but not quite leaning on it to avoid looking at the water- he could espy both river shores. The one they had left behind was only visible thanks to the lamp still on. The ferry was almost exactly midway now. The first part of the trip -even if terrifying- hadn't felt so long to Frank. Knowing he wouldn't have to wait much until they arrived to his destination lifted his mood. Hopefully it would be day there. He'd always loved the night, but now he was getting tired of it. Yet, not as tired as he was of the rain.

He couldn't be sure whether he was cold or just very scared, but he was still shaking. Weirdly, he wasn't in pain anymore. When he looked at his arms for the first time since before boarding the boat, he saw all the cuts and scratches had vanished. Being a soul did have its benefits.

A few more minutes went by and Frank was about to officially declare half of the way done. Right then, the sound of a horn startled him. The whining of hinges intensified and the ferryman was screaming out orders. To whom? Frank hadn't seen anyone else.

"TO STARBOARD! HARD TO STARBOARD! THAT IS THE _RIGHT_ FOR YOU, NEW IDIOTS!"

Weren't they supposed to be traveling in a straight line? Why would they go right? What was happening?

Everything stilled. Rain, thunder and wind. That's when Frank heard the ruckus of voices that appeared to be protesting the orders.

"NO!"

"NO PLEASE, DON'T!"

"PLEASE CARRY ON!"

"LET HIM GO!"

The old man shouted, "STARBOARD, I SAID! I GIVE THE ORDERS HERE. MOVE, WORK!"

Frank ran to the rear deck, covering his ears from the deafening creaking and the tens of voices repeating "right! right! right!" over and over. The ferryman was seizing the helm with both hands, steering it in the desired direction with a wicked smile on his face. The boat made a sharp turn and Frank fell to the floor again, sliding along the damp rotten boards to the other side, hitting his head against a barrel.

He was fully sobbing now, hugging his knees as he screamed to the old man, "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, UH? WHY ARE YOU GOING BACK? I PAID YOU! I PAID YOU TO TAKE ME TO THE OTHER SHORE, YOU FUCKER!"

Without even glancing at Frank, the ferryman chuckled darkly. "Oh yes, you paid me indeed. If only you mortals paid attention to songs as you do to old legends... Some musicians know what they're saying."

"What are you talking about? What song do...? WHAT THE FUCK?!" Frank squealed in surprise and fright when, all of a sudden, they weren't alone anymore. Lots of men and women who hadn't been there five seconds ago now walked around the ferry. Some were mopping the deck, some were repairing holes, others were carrying stuff in boxes and sacks. There were people of different ages and skin colors, but all of them looked miserable.

A middle-aged woman wearing a ragged nightgown shook her head at him sadly. "Don't pay the ferryman," she said, then continued her trudge with a bucket in her hand.

"...until he gets you to the other side," added a dark-haired person who was on all fours scrubbing the floor nearby. The voice had been barely perceptible, but it sounded familiar to Frank. Was it someone he knew?

He was crawling towards them to solve the mystery when the ferryman called, "FRANK! Come here!"

Frank didn't need to get up or even move. An invisible force propelled him and guided him to the man. Leaving the wheel, the guy circled Frank, studying him and prodding him once in a while.

"Mmmm...not strong enough for heavy duties yet. YOU!" the ferryman pointed to a skinny bald boy. "Take him down and get him ready for cleaning chores."

The thin boy didn't answer, just grabbed Frank's wrist and made him walk against his will.

"Down?" Frank questioned. He turned to check on the person with the familiar voice, but they were gone.

"Welcome aboard for real now, Mr. Iero," the ferryman's voice exclaimed with amusement.

******

Frank was led to a square floor door on the front deck, which he guessed was some kind of small warehouse where all the cleaning elements were probably kept. Given the fact that souls didn't eat or drink and that was a short-distance kind of boat, there was no reason for them to need more.

However, as he descended the rope ladder after the other boy -who introduced himself as Dave, confusion struck him again. The boat looked bigger down there than it did on the surface or from the outside, and it had two levels.

The one right below the deck was just high enough for a tall man to stand, and the heat was suffocating. About fifteen people were lying there over dirty rags. Some of them were quiet, a few were tossing and turning and the remaining ones were crying. Did souls sleep? Frank hadn't had the chance to find out.

"You only get one hour here per cycle," Dave informed.

"What's a cycle?"

"About eight journeys back and forth. It's the closer we have to a day, since the day and night pattern here holds no resemblance to the land of the living. It changes slightly when the ferry turns round midway like it just happened, but you'll know when a cycle ends 'cause we'll stay parked on the dark shore longer than usual."

"Oh. Thanks for the information," Frank said defeated. "How do I know when it's my turn to rest?"

"You can take your hour whenever you want as long as you finished the task that was last assigned to you. But you gotta tell someone else that you're going to and they must go get you when the time is over, otherwise you'll both be punished," Dave explained. "The ferryman doesn't always find out, but you don't want to take the risk, believe me."

Frank didn't dare ask what the punishment was. Having only one hour of rest in that awfully hot place was bad enough. "Okay, I'll remember that."

They continued to the lower level then, the one that astonished Frank the most. It was a huge, tall open space where all the souls were busy with different repetitive labors. Some were talking to each other as they worked, while others -Frank supposed the ones who had been there the longest- acted like zombies.

There was something that especially caught Frank's attention. "Are they...rowing?" he asked Dave. He was referring to the two long lines of men along each side of the room, sitting on small benches and methodically rotating what looked like wooden rods. Said rods were supported by some type of manual mechanism that evidently needed greasing up. "So...that's what the sound of hinges came from."

"Yes, be thankful that he deemed you not strong enough."

"Doesn't this boat have a motor?" Frank pressed on.

"I guess it used to, but it seems all machines that come from the land of the living stop working here. Just like clocks," Dave said. "Come on, let's get your stuff."

They were walking towards a big cabinet over the ferry's bow when Frank heard the same familiar voice as earlier; this time loud, clear and unmistakable.

"Frank?"

He felt like he couldn't turn fast enough, his eyes searching desperately for the source of the voice. When he saw the brown-haired young man he froze, unsure. "G-gerard...is that you?"

As a response, the other spread his arms and smiled. And Frank's short legs had never ran so fast before, and he dived into his boyfriend's embrace with such impetus that they both fell over a crate behind them. Sitting up, they continued to hold each other. Sobbing, without a word.

"You're so lucky to have found each other," came Dave's honest words. "Have some time, I'll tell the old man that Frank's cleaning the floor down here if he asks. Gerard, take him to the training sector when you're done."

"I...I will."

"Thanks," Frank whispered.

He then loosened his grip on Gerard to look at him properly. He was paler than ever, his eyes sunken and tired. The once black, long sleeved t-shirt he was wearing was discolored and looked rigid, having gotten wet and then dried off too many times without being actually washed. But it was the hair what had made Frank doubt. It had been bright red when Gerard died. "What happened to your hair?" he asked, caressing the matted locks.

Gerard shrugged. "It was like this when I...uh...woke up?"

"I like it brown too anyway," Frank grinned. Truly grinned while their eyes met and their faces got closer and closer. Frank threw his arms around Gerard's neck and they were kissing. An intense, love deprived kiss that also held the desperation of two people who didn't know if they'd be able to kiss again. They had no certainties anymore.

Gerard's mouth tasted like nothing other than tears, and he smelled like nothing but the humid clothes he was wearing; but he still _felt_ like Gerard and Frank never wanted to stop kissing him.

It was Gerard who broke the kiss, though. He stared at Frank and frowned, like he had suddenly remembered something bad about him. And then he was grabbing Frank by the arms and shaking him as he screamed to him.

"Why are you here, Frank? WHY?"

"Wh-what? I...you're here too, so you KNOW why! What kind of question is that, Gerard?" Frank cried. Wasn't Gerard happy to see him? What had he done wrong?

"I mean...why are you DEAD? Why the fuck are you dead when I asked you and you _promised_ to carry on without me! Why did you do it, Frankie, WHY?" Tears rolled down Gerard's white cheeks endlessly. He kept on shaking Frank, anger and pain in his features.

Frank now understood what his loved one meant, what he was thinking and implying. But he was so wrong. "I JUST DIDN'T MAKE IT EITHER, YOU IDIOT! I didn't do anything! I...passed out right after I closed your eyes; _I couldn't_ keep the promise, I..."

Gerard's breath caught in his throat and he released Frank, arms falling limp on his lap. "Then why did you take so long, baby?" he said softly. He sounded hurt, but not by anything Frank had done. He had been in that fucking ferry all that time without Frank, probably finding relief in thinking the boy was alive and well. But now that he knew it wasn't the case, it hurt that they hadn't reunited sooner.

"I didn't die right away," Frank started. "I could hear everything people said around me, but I couldn't wake up. I gathered I was in a coma for ten days before my heart gave up. I'm sorry, Gee. I tried to wake up, I swear..."

"No, Frankie, no. _I_ am sorry for doubting you. I love you, baby. I love you so much I just...didn't want you to die too..." Gerard hip-cupped.

"Shhh..." Frank shifted his position so he was on Gerard's lap, hugging his waist and curling up against his chest. He sensed Gerard's arms encircle and then squeeze him, and it temporarily felt like home."It doesn't matter now. I love you too, so _so_ much, and we're together in this, okay? For eternity if that's how it'll be."

"We are...forever."

Frank remained silent and motionless, basking in the familiarity. Wishing that the body warmth they had always loved to share was still present. Minutes went by and Gerard hadn't said a word either. Frank could detect that the stay in that place had already taken a toll on his boyfriend.

"By the way," Frank perturbed the silence, aiming to save Gerard from his own thoughts. "Mikey and the guys said they love you and will miss you. They told me to pass the message."

Gerard's face popped up and he gave Frank a tiny smile. "So do I, love them and miss them terribly. Hey..." he took Frank's hand that was stroking his cheek. "You found my ring!"

"Did you lose it?"

"Not exactly. I had to take it off 'cause it's too painful," he showed Frank his palms and fingers which were full of blisters and cuts. "They rarely have time to heal before I get new ones. When it did happen, I'd go and sit there for a few minutes and wear the ring, to think of you. I must have forgotten it last time."

"How did you get those blisters?"

"I'll show you," Gerard gently lifted Frank off his lap and got up, placing a hand on the small of his back to guide him to a corner next to the cabinet. There were knives, chisels and a small saw over a table. On the floor, two logs of a reddish wood; one of which had been half carved. "The old man found out I know how to carve wood, so I carve the oars to replace the ones that break."

"Oh fuck," Frank grimaced, taking Gerard's injured hands to his lips and kissing them. "I can imagine this is much harder than carving little figures into a small piece of wood..."

"It is. But...it's okay, I guess. At least I know my task is not useless."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll understand when you see what you're supposed to clean. We better get there now, the ferryman will want to check on you," Gerard pointed towards the ladder.

Soon, Frank found himself back in the passengers' cabin with a bucket of lathery water and a hand brush. Now that he'd seen the truth about the ferry, he could deduce why the place had felt so chilly and oppressing the first time he crossed that door. It hadn't been empty, just as it was rather crowded this time too; only that Frank hadn't been in their same plane then to see them.

There were at least as many people as seats. Most of them were meticulously cleaning every inch of the walls, floor and roof. A fifty-something lady maneuvered a roll of a red leather-looking material that two young girls cut square and rectangular pieces out of. Next to them, sat a chubby short boy who used what the girls provided to upholster segments of foam rubber at an incredible speed. A second guy, older and muscular, was in charge of fastening the newly made cushions to the seats and backrests.

Frank entertained himself with observing them work until Gerard tugged him away. "Frankie please," he whispered, "you can't just stand here doing nothing, he hates that."

"What do I do?"

"They're full here it seems, let's go up."

The second floor granted them more room to walk. The only different activity being realized there was the fixing of the leaking roof. A single guy was doing it and he hadn't been given a ladder; so he was forced to keep his balance standing spread-legged in between two sits.

"I hope we never have to do that," Gerard said. "I saw many fall down. We can break our bones, you know? They heal nearly as fast as wounds, but I heard the process is too painful."

Frank swallowed, desperation slowly creeping back into him.

After looking around and asking a few people, they found a section for Frank to clean. Gerard offered to polish the floor so they'd be near and able to talk for a little longer.

"Why did they have to decide to restore and clean this place the day I arrive, uh?" Frank thought aloud as he fought to get the fungus stains out of the metallic walls.

"It's done every cycle, sometimes more than once," a languid red haired girl to his left replied. Her movements seemed mechanical as she ran a cloth around a window frame.

Frank frowned deeply. That place was going to drive him crazy too soon. "What? It was all filthy and destroyed when I arrived. It's _still_ half filthy and destroyed. I...I don't get it..."

Gerard stopped what he was doing and gave him a sympathetic look before explaining, "Every time we finish, when everything is shiny and repaired and looking like it could actually transport people, the old man comes and destroys it all back."

"WHAT?"

"He has powers, can do a lot of damage in a few minutes and even summon dirt and mold. Then the next cycle, we're ordered to start all over again. Remember Dave called it the training sector? It's supposed to teach us discipline and concentration. I'd rather call it zombification..."

"So we're doing this for nothing, every fucking time?" Frank struggled to keep his voice low.

Gerard grabbed his face, looking into his eyes intently, a serious look that he'd never shown while he was alive. "Yes but _please_ , Frankie, don't ever argue. Never question what he tells you to do, never antagonize that man. _Promise_ me, Frank."

Frank could do nothing but nod. "I p-promise."

"Good," his boyfriend kissed his cheek quickly and they both went back to his tasks.

"Gee?"

"Yeah?"

"Isn't there any way to escape this boat?"

"Only if you want to join the skeletons down there in the river," Gerard replied grimly.

"That's if you jump when the boat is in _this_ side of the river, the dark side," one of the men taking care of the seats chimed in. "If you jump on the other side, you're simply returned aboard. I tried."

"I didn't even think the side of the river made any difference," Frank said.

"It does. The ferryman has total dominion on this side, that's also why he tries to get people to pay him before crossing the dividing line. He must convince them though, can't just snatch the money. Once on the bright side of the river -even if they pay him then, he can't turn back the ferry or trap any soul. He's physically forced to get them to the shore," the man elaborated.

"And can't we be somehow saved while on the bright side?" Gerard questioned.

"No, we belong to the ferryman. Just as he can't dispose of the new souls that didn't pay before once on the bright side, no one there can dispose of us."

Frank froze, the realization hitting him. "So there's no hope?"

The guy shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Once in a while he frees some souls, lets them cross. But it's only the very old ones, those who are too exhausted to be of any use to him anymore. We're doomed."

******

As cycles went by, Gerard's mood improved. He told Frank that having him back had made the situation tolerable and given him a reason to hold on. He was more talkative and affectionate, always doing his best to avoid leaving Frank alone for too long. Frank appreciated it. He was sure he would have done something very stupid by now if he hadn't found Gerard. His love was the only thing stopping him from going completely insane. He only got by thanks to those little quiet moments to themselves that were so hard to take hold of.

However, as much as he tried to seem strong for Gerard -who was always trying to cheer him up, time was only making things worse and worse for Frank. He thought he would maybe get used to the boat's routine eventually, but with each cycle he felt his soul wither some more. That is a particularly huge problem when your soul is all that's left, all you are. While alive, Frank had been a free soul. Someone who had never liked to be told what to do and when to do it. Someone who had always hated to stay in one place for too long.

Now, he was tied to that ferry and condemned to eternal darkness. He missed the sun on his skin so much it hurt. Sometimes, it was day when they'd cross over to the bright side, but they weren't allowed to see it. The light of day was forbidden to them, so the ferryman would command them all to the under-deck part of the boat and put a lock on the door. Frank and Gerard would then find one of the holes everybody only pretended to fix on the rest-room level and huddle next to it, taking turns to peep at the sun and the daylight sky.

They also missed the stars. It was always night on the dark aside, but it was also always raining. Sometimes it was just a drizzle, sometimes a downpour and many times an electric storm. Dark clouds were the natural roof to that despairing boat.

Something they had been glad to find out, was that no one under 18 was kept in the ferry. Children and teens were always taken to the other shore, no matter when they'd pay or if they refused to do it. They hadn't seen many really old people, but there wasn't a total absence of them; which led them to conclude that they were, for the most part, the tired souls freed after years of serving.

Another very stressing part of the deal for the trapped souls were the new arrivals. They were able to not only sense but also see the new souls -if they concentrated hard enough- from the moment they'd near the hill. Those who had been aboard the ferry for many years, kept telling the less experienced ones to try and ignore the signals and not force the visions. They said it would only drive them insane. But Gerard and Frank, just as many others, felt the urge to watch over those souls and try to help. Guide them and give them advice. It was strange for Frank to now be the one projecting his voice into other people's heads, screaming desperate warnings that only a few paid attention to.

Frank had learned the hard way about the consequences of giving out any information that was too specific or genuinely useful; especially if it involved disclosing the ferryman's intentions.

That girl had been so young, so small standing next to the old man as he asked for the payment. Frank had disregarded what the others told him and, as several of them gathered around the young soul -still invisible to her eyes, he whispered in her ear, "Don't pay him yet, he'll trap you!"

Gerard had caught him just in time before he hit the floor, as his legs stopped responding him and the most unbearable pain he'd ever felt shot through his head. He knew he was screaming, but he couldn't hear his own voice or anyone else's. He'd been barely conscious of someone carrying him before the pain was all he registered. It felt as if his skull was being cracked open with a hammer while someone dug into his brain at the same time.

It only lasted a few minutes -that's what Gerard had said, but it'd felt like hours to Frank. When he regained control of his body and mind, Gerard and some of their friends had been looking at him reproachfully. "Can't say we didn't tell you how much it'd hurt," Gerard had pointed out.

"I thought he wouldn't hear me whisper among all the voices," Frank had defended himself, knowing he sounded lame but too proud to admit it. He shouldn't have underestimated the ferryman.

******

They were now lying over a grimy blanket on the rest sector, Frank using Gerard's belly as a pillow while the other played with his hair. They rarely used that hour to sleep, too tired to do so and knowing one hour wasn't enough to get any real rest. Thankfully, although sleep was welcomed and advised, it wasn't a need for souls.

Frank couldn't help the tiny distressed whine that escaped his lips, and he felt Gerard squirm under him. "You okay?"

"Yeah, my head still hurts a little bit," he stopped to look at his boyfriend, knowing what he would say. "I know, I know it was my fault."

Gerard pressed his lips to Frank's forehead. The coldness of their bodies was still foreign to them after what they estimated to have been three weeks. "It's okay, I know you just wanted to save that girl. And you did."

Frank's eyes grew wide. "Yeah?"

"Yep. The old man couldn't do anything about the fact that she'd already heard you."

"That's the best news I've heard in a _long_ time," Frank exclaimed with a voice full of emotion, moving his head off Gerard so he could lie beside him.

The older boy cupped his face and started a gentle, slow kiss. Frank pushed everything out of his mind at that instant, opening his mouth to grant Gerard's tongue access. His own wandered every corner of the other's mouth, wanting to feel since there was nothing to taste. Wanting to be closer, connected, grounded. Gerard was his only anchor in that boat.

After a while their lips felt almost warm, and the sensation was so welcomed that they couldn't bring themselves to stop. They couldn't part when they mouths felt so good rubbing against each other and it remained them so much of how it used to be.

They hadn't paid attention to the other people lying around that big room. Being too aware of their situation and location could make things awkward. They were all in the same boat anyway -literally, so the others should understand. Right now they could, however, hear the couple across from them talking in whispers. They seemed to be arguing.

"Fuck it!" the girl suddenly blurted out.

When Frank and Gerard broke their kiss to look in that direction, they saw that the couple had covered themselves completely with a dirty large quilt. It wasn't long until soft moans could be heard from beneath it.

Frank then turned his face back to Gerard and met his eyes with a look he hoped would be interpreted correctly. It wasn't one of lust. Just hopeful and pleading. Needy.

Gerard reached behind him, grabbing a cloth no one was using and throwing it over them. It was thin enough that they could still see each other thanks to the lamp hanging above them. It was hot, very hot in that place and even more inside their hideout; but when you live in such a cold world, you soon come to cherish the heat.

Frank's hands fumbled with the button of Gerard's pants timidly, waiting for approval.

"I'm not sure we should..." Gerard doubted.

"Please," Frank murmured, pecking at Gerard's small nose. "I...I need...I need to _feel_ , need some...normality. Please, Gee..."

Gerard didn't answer, but his eyes said he understood. With a nod, he let Frank go on with what he was doing while he did the same for him. Once their pants were open, they wriggled for some seconds to push them down to their knees, not wanting to stain what would never be washed.

"We don't have much time..."

It was Frank's turn to nod. "I know."

Still lying on their sides and facing each other, they got as close as humanly possible, entwining their legs and hugging with one arm. Retrieving his other hand from underneath their bodies, Frank took hold of both their members, giving them a little squeeze. Gasping, Gerard placed his own hand over Frank's and they began to stroke themselves together.

The initial pleasure felt so good that Frank had to forcefully crash his lips against Gerard's to suppress a moan. He didn't want to incommode or be disrespectful to the other souls in the place.

"H-how...how does this even work?" he asked softly when the first strong wave of sensations passed. "Our bodies are not really he..."

A new kiss silenced him. "I guess it's an illusion our minds create, just...don't think about it, baby."

"Uh...I _love_ my mind," Frank groaned, eyes rolling back.

"Shhh...quiet!" Gerard muffled a giggle.

They needed to be quick and their arms didn't have much space to move, so they ended up trusting into their joined fists. They went faster and faster, panting shallowly but not sweating. Their other hands interlaced and pressed in between their chests. Their foreheads together.

It may have been a lucky coincidence or just what their minds wanted and created, but they came at the same time; biting their fingers to keep quiet. Eyes wide open and locked on the other's. They didn't care to check whether or not their bodies had ejaculated anything. It wasn't important. Neither did it matter that their eyes had been wet all the time. They'd felt alive.

They kissed and caressed for a little longer, listening to the billowy river hit the boat. Frank then removed the cloth from their faces, but kept their bodies under it so they could fix their clothes.

As he was lifting his hips to put his pants back into place, Frank absently glanced at where the other couple was and caught the girl doing the same. After blinking through his tears to clear his eyes, he noticed that she had been crying too.

They didn't need to say anything to know why they had taken the risk and done something like that with their partners. Or to agree that even though the sadness persisted, that moment had been worth it while it lasted. A little watery smile shared sufficed.

"Geena. And Tommy," she voiced.

"Frank...and Gerard."

******

After that, Frank asked Gerard that they try and do something similar at least once every seven cycles. Like a weekly date to unwind and defy the nature of that place. To know that the sinister man, spirit or whatever the ferryman was, couldn't take all their rights away.

Those short moments of semi-intimacy gave Frank some of his will and strength back. It didn't matter what they exactly did during them as long as they got very close and pretended to be somewhere else, alone and free.

However, being less depressed and having a clearer mind put Frank into an angry, rebel mood. Before, he had been resigned; hopeless. Now he wanted to fight, find a way out. Every time he expressed this to the others and searched for support, he was simply told to calm down and accept his fate. The older souls said they'd tried it all, and the newer ones were too scared or just as sunk into sadness as Frank had been.

Gerard was in a similar frame of mind to Frank. There was nothing he wanted more than freedom, and he hated the idea of just accepting there was no escape. Yet, he wasn't ready to rebel. He didn't want to face the consequences of disobeying. He was always by Frank's side, calming and distracting him so he wouldn't get in trouble. Frank did his best, for both of them, but he knew it was a matter of time until he exploded.

It was while they were refurbishing the passengers' cabin for probably the eightieth time since he'd arrived that he felt his patience crumble. He was certain Gerard had noticed the murderous way in which he wielded the scissors in his hand and _ripped_ through the upholstery more than he cut. And if he had any doubt, Gerard putting away the roll of faux leather he was holding for him with a worried look surely was a clear sign of acknowledgment.

Frank made a bigger effort to relax, then. He concentrated on Gerard's conversation with Ricky, a flamboyant newcomer who had managed to preserve both his mood and his glamor for at least five cycles so far. That, or he was an excellent pretender.

"I can't blame him, though," Gerard said. Frank knew he was looking at and talking about him. "It's too frustrating to know you're working your ass off for nothing. Add to that having to work on _the same_ useless thing over and over."

"Yeah, I know," Ricky agreed, sighing. "I wish we could choose our own materials, actually _design_ the place. It would at least make it more fun, different each time."

"Oh yeah! That would be awesome!" And that was the exaggerated, fake happy tone Gerard applied when he wanted to cheer Frank up. But he wasn't upset now, he was furious. "Imagine the seats, for example...dark red velvet combined with stripes of black satin and some strass in the seams."

Frank heard Ricky clap his hands excitedly. Were they putting on a show for him? "Oh my God, yes! But then we'd need some nice fluffy carpeting to match, and better illumination..."

"And what about the windows?" Gerard touched Frank's shoulder, not giving up when he flinched. "What do you think, Frankie? Give us a hand here, let's imagine..."

"Are we still talking about the same run-down ferry, or a cabaret?" he replied bitterly.

Again, Gerard seemed to ignore Frank's hostile attitude. "Oh...that's actually a good idea! Isn't it, Ricky?"

"Mmm...do you think the old man would like it?" the other boy wondered sarcastically.

"From soul-transportation to floating cabaret. I think he w..."

"I can't stand this, I just can't do it any longer," Frank stated, not listening anymore.

Gerard kneeled down, his face suddenly in Frank's field of vision. "I know, sweetheart," he spoke soothingly. "Just...try to play along? None of us wants to be here, so this is..."

"I CAN'T!" Frank repeated, standing up. "FUCKING CAN'T!"

"Frankie, please...cal..."

"Don't you tell me to calm down, Gerard. I won't. Just like I won't put up with an eternity here!"

Gerard tried to hug him, but Frank pushed him away and walked towards the door. "Frank...where are you going? Come back here, you haven't finished your task and he's going to..."

"FUCK the task, fuck this boat, fuck this fucking afterlife and that fucking asshole!"

"Frank!"

He was done. No more tolerance left in him. There was no calming him down or making him change his mind. If he couldn't do anything to get them out of that situation, he was at least going to unleash his anger on the culprit; whatever the consequences.

"I love you, Gee," he told him, kicking the cabin door shut hard enough to mess up the hinges and make it hard to open. He heard the guys banging on the other side and rushed to drag two big barrels of water in front of the entrance, blocking it. That would give him some extra time before they went after him.

Frank's fuming state didn't allow him to give whatever he was about to do a second thought. Or even a first, really. He was driven by his impulses as he strode towards the boat's stern.

"MOTHERFUCKER!" he screamed.

The ferryman paid him no mind and continued to hum some lullaby-sounding song to himself, eyes heedful on the absolute darkness as if he could see something in it. Maybe he could. The hood of his dusty black coat was pulled down, but the rain didn't seem to be touching his ashy hair. It stood up in all directions, giving his overall creepy mad look the perfect touch.

"I'm not doing that fucking useless shit anymore!" Frank announced, stopping in front of the man yet keeping some distance. "I don't give a fucking fuck about your goddamn training, I need no fucking training 'cause I won't work for you, you hear?"

A deafening thunderbolt zigzagged through the sky. The boat shook and the light reflected on the old man's impassive face, his skin and flesh disappearing before Frank's eyes. Only for an instant, like an x-ray. Could Frank still attribute what he saw for a second time to autosuggestion?  If he had been alive, if his body had been actually there, his blood would have frozen. His mind did a pretty good job recreating the feeling, anyway.

Frank shivered but pulled himself together when seeing the outline of a smirk on the ferryman. His metaphorical blood went from freezing to boiling and he tightened his grip on the scissors he only now realized he was still holding. "Did you even hear me, old fucker? I'm sick and tired of your bullshit. We paid you to get us to the other side so you better do it now, you son of a monster bitch!"

One of the ferryman's hands left the helm and went to his waist as he finally looked at Frank and gave him one of his toothless, putrid smiles. "That language won't intimidate an old sailor, son," he said calmly.

Frank got closer, looking straight into the icy eyes of his captor. "I am _not..._ your damn...son," he spat cockily.

The ferryman chuckled. "Well now, you don't expect me to remember all of your pathetic souls' names past the day of your arrival, do ya son?"

Frank growled, anger and indignation getting the best of him. He could hear the others pushing at the door and the barrel while Gerard screamed his name; and it only gave him more determination to confront the ferryman.

To the cry of "My name...is...Frank!" he charged forward, raised the scissors above his head and buried them into the man's chest. Frank wasn't sure what he had expected, since he hadn't even planned to stab the guy to begin with. But he definitely wasn't expecting what happened next.

As soon as the long, sharp scissors penetrated -perforating flesh and muscle, it all dissolved around it just like the blood that had started to pour out. The improvised weapon bounced against rock-hard bone, the impact causing Frank to release it. With horror he watched the scissors become incandescent before turning into ashes. All that was left of them was a bunch of soot on the deck.

Sinister laughter broke through the now torrential rain and Frank looked up terrified. All of his braveness was gone and he felt smaller than ever. Just tiny and powerless. The laughter lived on as the ferryman pretended to be just undusting his coat over the spot where Frank would have hurt him. Then his amusement appeared to die down abruptly and he turned to stare at Frank with scorn.

Before the boy could even think of running, the man had him by the neck and was walking him towards the railing.

"FRANK!" Gerard came screaming, followed by many others. "YOU FUCKER, LET HIM GO!"

The ferryman raised a hand. "STOP!" he said, and they all vanished without a trace. He had never used his powers to do that before.

Frank's eyes nearly popped out of his skull. He wanted to scream in fear, ask what had happened to them. To Gerard. But the man's hand around his neck was too tight. He wasn't strong enough to fight it.

Still dragging him, the ferryman walked to the other part of the boat and pointed to the door on the floor, a lock appearing on it.

Frank chose to believe they all had been locked down there and hadn't just faded away. On the other hand, that still meant no one could save him.

He was taken back to the railing and made face it. At the same time that his neck was released, he was pushed over the border.

"AHHHHHHHHH!" Just when Frank was about to hit the water, he felt the ferryman grab his ankles. "P-please put me up...please, please, p-please..."

"Look!" said the ferryman's imperatively voice. He kept Frank hanging, face dangerously close to the water surface.

Frank tried to shut his eyes, but he couldn't. Something forced him to keep them open and look down. "P-please...," he sobbed as the luminous, skeletal specters of the river gathered around him. Their eyes were pained and imploring. Their long, preying fingers grasped his hair and clothes. He flapped his arms around intending to chase him away, but they got hold of his limbs too and began to pull him down.

"Heeeelp..." they begged.

"Now son... _Frank,"_ the ferryman emphasized. "I could just let go of you and you'd go join them. Do you want that?"

Frank couldn't stand the pressure anymore. He felt like he was going to break in two. "NO! No, please, put me up. I...I'll do whatever you want, just...d-don't let them get me, I'm s-sorry...."

"Oh! That's what I wanted to hear," the old man laughed. With a simple hissing sound coming from him, the spirits gave up on Frank and swam away. Next, he hoisted the boy with ease but maintained him pressed against the railing.

"Wh-what...I, please..." Frank babbled. He needed to sit down or he would pass out. It probably wasn't even possible for a soul, but he felt like it.

"Sometimes, I like second chances..."

"P-please..."

"I think you've learned your lesson but...to be sure, let's go eye for an eye." The ferryman brought a fist up and discharged it against Frank's stomach.

Frank thought he was getting a punch, but the feeling was that of a blade puncturing. He knew he had been right when, after falling to the floor, he saw blood emanating from a deep wound. Crying out in pain, he wrapped an arm around his injured body and bit his tongue to refrain from bitching at the ferryman. He didn't need more trouble.

"Now back to work!" the man commanded.

"Wh-what? I...I can't...s-stand."

"Dammit! You're the weakest soul I've ever seen. So useless." With a snap of the ferryman's fingers, the lock on the floor door made a click and the door instantly ejected up, several souls coming out one by one.

As expected, Gerard was the first one to run to Frank, his face full of tears as he saw that his boyfriend was hurt. "What the _fuck_ did you do to him?" he shouted to the old man, collecting Frank in his arms.

The ferryman sighed annoyed. "He says he can't stand, but he can still work while sitting. So take him back to the cabin and make him clean the floor. He brought this on himself, so there will be no exception. You _know_ how this works."

Gerard just eyed him, blinking. "I know but...he can't...I don't think..."

"Gee...let it go," Frank whispered, his head resting on Gerard's shoulder. The pain was even worse now, and he felt so tired.

"No Frank, I won't..."

"BACK TO WORK, ALL OF YOU!" the ferryman screamed. "And _Frank_ , you better not get any blood on the floor."

With all of them knowing there was no use in trying to go against the ferryman, Gerard did as told and carried Frank back to the cabin. He carefully lowered him to the floor and propped him against one of the seats.

"Use this to stop the blood," Dave handed him his jean jacket.

Gerard folded the jacket and pressed it over Frank's wound, using the sleeves to adjust and tie it over a side of his waist.

"Hurts..." Frank whimpered.

Gerard grabbed his face and kissed his lips lightly. "I know, love...but you gotta work or it'll be worse."

Ricky placed a bucket next to Frank and left a brush on his lap. "Just...try to remember your body's not actually here, so that wound is also just an illusion."

Frank scowled at him. "Well, it feels pretty fucking real to me, so what you say is stupid!"

"Frank...Ricky's only trying to help," Gerard said. He winced as he saw Frank get on his knees with great difficulty and submerge the brush in the bucket. Dave's jacket was already soaked in blood, and he saw the stain grow as Frank bended to perform his assigned task.

"I know, I'm sorry..." he sobbed. "It just really, _really_ fucking hurts."

"What exactly happened, babe? We tried to help but you know what hap..."

"Gee...can't we not talk about it, please?" Frank looked up pleadingly. He felt humiliated, ashamed. He should have used his brain before doing something so idiotic.

The other nodded, hugging him loosely and burying his nose in Frank's hair. "Okay, then. But...know that he hurt me too only a few days after I arrived, on the shoulder. Just like you, I got fed up and confronted him. You'll be alright, baby. It'll take a few cycles to completely close up, though."

Gerard had never mentioned that before -probably not wanting to scare him, and now that Frank knew he felt worse about not listening to his warnings. "I'm sorry..."

"So am I, Frankie. So am I."

*******

Frank's wound bled for two cycles, slowly waning until it was only slightly wet. Gerard never failed to attend him, finding something new to bandage him with while the previously used cloths he had precariously washed were hung out to dry. He would also help Frank move around, completely carrying him during the first cycles and making him lean on him once the boy insisted he was well enough to walk. All in all, Gerard pampered Frank as much as the schedule and rules of the boat allowed him. The intimate sessions, much to Frank's protests, had to be limited to just cuddling to avoid any extra pain and effort. But he had to admit that cuddling quietly was all he felt like doing after being forced to work with a hole in his stomach.

Thankfully, Gerard had been right and after the third cycle the wound started to shrink. It still hurt and he felt rather weak, but he'd repeat "it's all in my head" to himself like a mantra and carry on working. He had been very submissive after his encounter with the ferryman, doing whatever he was told without even daring look at the man's face. He knew Gerard was almost as worried with that behavior as he had been with his rebel phase; but he didn't comment on it. He just stood up for Frank every time he thought the ferryman was asking too much of him.

****

It was the sixth cycle now since Frank had gotten stabbed and they were taking their break while the ferryman was entertained with a new arrival. They had learned to ignore some by now, letting the newer souls do the warning job.

Frank laid comfortably tucked in between Gerard's legs, head resting on his chest as the other's arms surrounded him protectively. They were having a random conversation when they saw a pair of legs in muddy dress-up pants and shoes descend the ladder. A white shirt covered in grass stains, burs and rips followed, a loose black tie askew around the dirty collar.

Stopping where he was and still gripping the ladder, the person -a young boy- bent sideways to take a look down. His big brown eyes were cautious and scared, but he smiled widely as he spotted Frank and Gerard right away.

"Oh, thank God there's someone else! That old man is an _awful_ conversational partner and I was getting bored," he said jumping off the ladder. He then took off the topless top hat he was wearing -revealing a messy mop of brown hair, and offered his hand to the guys. "I'm Brendon Urie, please to meet you."

Frank stared at him dumbfounded. _What a cheery entrance._ Definitely not common in that place. "Uh...please to meet you, Brendon. I'm Frank, and this is my boyfriend Gerard. Are you...new?" he asked. It couldn't be. Although...he'd never seen the boy before. And what he'd just said...

"Yep, just arrived. I guess I should say 'sadly', but...why lament what can't be helped? We all have to die, don't we?" he shrugged.

Gerard had been quiet, probably confused about the same thing as Frank. The boat hadn't turned back, which meant Brendon was still a free soul. "But...you can see us?" he tilted his head.

Brendon seemed amused with the question and the two boys' confused expressions. "Well...isn't it obvious? I'm talking to you. Why shouldn't I be able to see you? You're dead too, right? We're all souls..."

"Yeah but...we're not in your same...spiritual plane, we're trapped in this boat, not going anywhere," Frank tried to explain. "New souls can't see us unless they p-"

"DON'T!" Gerard screamed, covering Frank's mouth just in time and startling Brendon. "You know you _can't_ talk about that with newcomers. _"_

Brendon sat down in front of Frank, a mysterious air about him as he put his hat back on. "You meant to say...unless they pay the ferryman?"

"Yeah but," Frank moved his hands around with frustration, not finding any permitted words to say what he wanted to say. "only if you..."

"...do it before arriving to the other side," Brendon completed the sentence.

"Yes! How did you know?"

"Oh, that song from the 80's? I thought of it when I saw the ferry and just in case decided to do as it says. I'm guessing I should be glad I did..."

"Ahh, the song," Frank said flatly. The fact that he appeared to be the only one who had never heard said song was starting to make him feel stupid. Sure, Gerard and many others hadn't given the song any credit, but they at least _knew_ it. "And yeah, you should be very, very glad."

"I still don't understand why he can see us," Gerard uttered, his chin on Frank's shoulder as he scrutinized Brendon.

"Uhmm well," Brendon meditated. "I've always been able to see and talk to ghosts while alive, so it probably has something to do with it..."

"Makes sense," Frank agreed. He'd thought Brendon was a strange individual, but there was something else about him that felt different other than what could be seen. That had been probably it.

"Yeah! Like...he's always had the ability to see and communicate with those in a different plane from his, so this is a similar situation..." Gerard mused with certain excitement.

"Wow." Brendon grinned. "you make me sound so fucking _cool_ when you put it like that! And...do you know what happens to those souls who refuse to pay or fail to pay in time?"

Frank strained to remember all he'd heard -and seen, now- about the subject. "I know those who arrive here without any money, have the chance to get it on the bright side and go back to the shore to pay. Like...they're given a certain time. If they make it, they can stay there. But I don't know how that exactly works or what happens if the don't come back in time..."

"They go to hell, just like the ones who straight-out refuse to pay," Gerard answered Frank's doubt with security. "That's what I've always heard."

Brendon looked from Frank to Gerard, raising his eyebrows in a comical manner. He smiled smugly as he said to Gerard, "You've heard wrong."

"Uh?" At this point Frank didn't know if he wanted to slap the guy or hug and thank him for being an effortless, walking comic relief. He was so...articulate.

"I know nothing about hell but...have you boys heard about how ghosts are souls with unresolved issues?" Brendon quizzed them.

Frank had to snort when Gerard raised his hand like in school. "Wait, Brendon...are you meaning to say ghosts are the souls who didn't pay the ferryman?"

"Exactly! A ghost himself told me. They aren't ready to pass to the other side. Some people are conscious of it, so they refuse to pay. Others aren't, but the souls on the other side can see it and don't give them money when they ask. Many solve their issues and get a second chance, while others never do or simply choose to stay as ghosts."

"Woah," Gerard exclaimed. "Kinda shocking to know we've been so misinformed... I don't even know what to think of it right now or if it's even worth thinking about in our position. What do you say, Frankie?"

Frank was lost in thought, trying to assimilated all the information Brendon had given them. It all seemed so obvious now, like something he should have figured out by himself. Although, working on those conclusions would have only been useful to help him pass time there. Their destiny had been decided.

"Frank! Are you here?" Gerard called him again, kissing his cheek.

"Yeah..."

"What was in your mind, babe?"

Frank let out a shaky breath. "I was just thinking...fuck..."

"Hey, hey!" laughed Brendon. "Save that for when you two are alone!"

"Shut up, ghost whisperer." Frank attempted to look mad, but the corner of his lips turning up delated him. "I was going to say that...since there's no way for us to get to the bright shore from here anymore, I wish we could at least _revert_ our payment and go back to the land of the living, as ghosts. Better than this."

"You can't revert the payment...legally," came a voice from a darker corner of the room.

Gerard, Frank and Brendon all turned their heads towards the person who had spoken, seeing him come out of the shadows to join them.

"Patrick! Hadn't seen you there," Gerard addressed him. It was that short guy who was an expert at fixing the cabin's seats and taught many others the ability. Younger than Frank in appearance, the word around was that he had been in the ferry for fifteen years already. Gerard never talked to him much except for the times they'd work together, but he seemed like a collected, smart boy.

"Hello, guys," Patrick greeted them. He pushed his green flat cap up a little bit to take a better look at the new comer, frowning. "Guess I fell asleep for a few minutes. You're new, right?"

As Brendon introduced himself to Patrick and explained his odd case, Frank started to get impatient to hear about what Patrick knew. Glancing back at Gerard, a roll of his boyfriend's eyes told him he wanted Brendon to shut up just as much.

Their impatience must have been obvious when, at the first pause, they asked with one voice, "What did you mean before?"

The guy seemed lost for some seconds, scratching his plump cheek. "Oh, that! Well...I saw someone do it long ago, but until now we'd always thought the ones who refused to pay went to hell, so we never tried to copy him. I'm not one hundred percent sure that reverting the payment has the same consequence as that, though..."

"I'd take the risk..." Gerard sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

"Yeah...I'd just love to get outta here, rather be a ghost" Frank nodded absentmindedly. He then looked at Patrick with unconcealable hesitation. "And how do you do it... _illegally_?"

"This is so exciting!" Brendon interrupted.

"Shh...let him talk, we don't have much time," Gerard shushed him. Frank was so glad he did.

Patrick dragged himself closer, looking around as if to make sure no one else was listening. He spoke in a low voice, "You'd have to get to the ferryman's chest of coins and steal as much as you gave him -making sure it's the same currency, of course. Then..." he stopped to think. "...then you say... Uh...at least what that man said was something like: 'I'm not ready to leave the land of the living'. And you throw the coins to the river."

Brendon snorted. "Sounds legit..."

"Says the one who just told me he talks to ghosts," retorted Patrick.

"Ain't I talking to you?"

"We're not exactly ghosts," Gerard corrected.

Brendon shrugged. "Same thing, you said it yourself."

"You did, Gee," Frank laughed. "But can we let Patrick finish? Any time now we'll be kicked out of here and sent back to work. Pat...what happens once you do that?"

He shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't answer that question properly. That guy who did it just...disappeared. When the ferryman found out, he told us he'd burn in hell. But he says the same about the ones who refuse to pay, and Brendon here told us it's not true..."

Frank swallowed loudly. He didn't like where the conversation was going. "And...where does the ferryman keep the chest?"

"Inside a secret compartment near the helm. Can't be too hard too unlock, and the chest itself needs no key. No trapped soul is interested in stealing money they can't use or that could send them to hell. And those who board the ferry without any, aren't able to see the chest. The real problem would be to keep the ferryman away from there long enough to do it."

"I'm not stealing from that monster. I'm not," Frank's voice broke, memories of what happened when he fronted the ferryman coming back. The now scarring wound burned in his stomach and his eyes filled with tears. "I...I want out but...just...call me a coward but he scares the f-fuck out of me."

"Me too, dude," Patrick confessed. "I know what he can do."

Gerard hugged Frank firmly and rocked him, speaking into his ear. "It's okay, Frankie, I know. I wasn't gonna let you put yourself in danger again, anyway. I'll do it, I'll steal us those coins and we'll get the fuck out of this boat."

"But I don't want you to get in trouble either!"

"Then I won't," Gerard replied. Before Frank could wrongly assume that his boyfriend had changed his mind, he added, "I'll be very careful, and find someone to help me distract the man."

"Gee, I don't think..." Frank transmitted all his worry into the intense look he threw him. Gerard only shook his head and kissed his nose, a wordless "It'll be okay" that Frank found difficult to believe no matter how hard he tried.

"I'll help," Brendon jumped in all of a sudden, raising both hands.

"You're getting off the boat soon, remember?" Patrick pointed out.

"I know. That's the point, my friend! When the ferryman leaves the helm to escort me..." he paused, pensive. "...he does escort people, right?"

"Yeah. Well, kinda," Frank said. "he doesn't leave _the boat_ , though."

"Enough! I'm good at keeping people entertained, trust me," Brendon enunciated proudly.

Frank became aware of an important detail to have in mind. "Wait. Gee...won't it be day on the bright side?"

"No, it's only been night for one round, so pretty sure it still is."

Brendon looked confused. "What are you talking about?"

"We get locked up below when it's day there," Frank explicated.

"Oh. But then...the plan is on?"

"Totally!" Gerard smiled at Brendon, ignoring Frank's whines of disapproval against his neck. "Thank you."

Brendon stood up, hands on Gerard and Frank's shoulders. "Now I better go back up or the ferryman will suspect. In case we don't get to speak again...I hope it all works out for you. Pleased to meet you, boys. You're awesome. You too, Patrick!"

After the boys returned the compliments and thanked him for his help, Brendon took off his hat, bowed, and nimbly climbed the ladder.

As soon as they heard the door closing, the three looked at each other for a moment and shared amused chuckles at the guy's eccentricity. Brendon could get a little bit annoying at moments, but he was right when he called himself a good entertainer.

"Ok, guys. Back to our subject," Patrick said. "I think you shouldn't tell anyone else about what you're gonna do. If more knew, they'd all want to try it now and that wouldn't end up too well."

"As much as I'd want to get everyone out of here with us, I think you're right," Gerard concurred. "We don't even know where we'll end up for sure."

"If it works, though...do your best to pass the message to a living person -or more, so they'll be able to tell us when it's their turn to come here. Well, if they're like Brendon."

"What do you mean, Patrick?" Gerard frowned. "Aren't you coming with us?"

The blond didn't reply right away. Drawings random lines with his finger on the dirty floor, he appeared to be considering his options carefully. Frank thought he was probably just as terrified as he was of the plan going to shit. However, that wasn't what came out of Patrick's mouth when he finally spoke.

"No, I'll stay. For the moment, at least. It's been so long since I last saw my family that I'm not ready to do it again. It might make no sense to you when said like this, but I don't want to be around just watching, seeing how everybody's lives went on without me. It's been about sixteen years, a lot of things could have changed and I'd rather not find out most of them. It'd be too painful."

Even though he could understand his standpoint, Frank was surprised by Patrick's choice. "But...you prefer to stay _here_?"

"I'm used to this, and I know how to stay on the ferryman's...good side -if you can call it that. It..."

"Pat, your time's over!" someone screamed from above.

"Coming!" he yelled back. "Like I was saying...at least I'm busy here."

"So...you're completely sure?" Gerard asked one more time.

"Positive! And I can always change my mind in the future, you know? Good luck, boys," Patrick waved before disappearing through the small door.

******

Soon, Gerard and Frank also had to go back to work. They considered it great news when they were told that they had been assigned the deck for that turn and not the cabin. It meant that they'd be around and it would be easier to see when Brendon was about to disembark.

Gerard was hoisting buckets of river water to fill the barrels when they reached the luminous shore. Usually, if it was night there, everybody would stop what they were doing for a minute to gape at and yearn for what they couldn't have. To see those smiling free souls dance and sing as they welcomed the new ones under the light of colorful lanterns hanging from beautiful trees.

Not this time, though. Gerard had a mission. As soon as he saw the ferryman leave the helm, he walked to the closest barrel and began to slowly -very slowly- pour water into it. Waiting for the right moment.

Frank had moved on to mop the floor as near to the disembarkation area of the boat as possible. That way he could hear Brendon's conversation with the old man and attempt to warn Gerard if the distraction failed. He could actually see his boyfriend from there too, so it was the perfect spot. He was scared; so scared for Gerard that he had to be thankful that what he was doing required movements that dissimulated his shaking.

Brendon followed the ferryman to where the already placed board separated the boat from the land. The man then turned to him with an outstretched hand. "You still need to pay me before leaving this boat, son."

"I don't think it's that easy, sir," Frank heard Brendon say.

Gerard had managed to find the secret compartment on the floor, and was now trying to get the lock open with a hairpin he'd stolen from an old woman.

"Are you refusing to pay me?" the ferryman was questioning Brendon.

If Frank hadn't been so nervous, he would have laughed at how innocent the boy looked as he said, "Oh no, not refusing. It's just...I like to know what I'm exactly paying for, mister."

Frank's eyes went back to Gerard and he suffered as he saw him still struggling with the lock, trembling hands trying different angles unsuccessfully. "Fuck," he cursed to himself. "Come on, Gee, you can do it..."

He had missed whatever the ferryman had been saying, but Brendon was talking again. "But...what _is_ this place? I haven't been told. Is this Heaven? Is it the Heaven's lobby? How do I know I was taken to the right place? If you would kindly explain to me, then I'd have no problem giving you these coins," he gestured, opening his hand to show them.

The ferryman was losing his patience. "I have no time for this, boy. I'm only in charge of the transport, not my job to give you explanations. You pay me now or go to hell. Literally."

"Oh, but then this _is_ heaven?"

While the ferryman seemed ready to strangle Brendon, Gerard had finally gotten the lock open and was lying on his stomach, head and arms inside the compartment. The chest must have been too big and heavy to take it out.

"No more time, hand over the coins or it'll be considered refusal to pay," the man presented Brendon with the ultimatum. The boy quickly met Frank's eyes with sorrow. He needed to go, couldn't postpone it any longer.

Frank gave him an encouraging nod and mouthed "thank you" before bringing his attention back to Gerard. It was obvious that he still hadn't found all the needed coins and, now with Brendon gone and the payment in his hand, the ferryman was heading back to his usual position.

He realized there was no time to warn Gerard. The distance was too short and the ferryman would soon see him. He needed to stop him right now. Therefore, Frank did the first thing that came to mind. He dropped the mop and fell to the floor screaming in agony, one arm wrapped around his middle section and the other cradling his head. Gerard sat up and looked at him worried, but Frank gave him a thumbs up to let him know it was faked.

"What the hell...?" the ferryman stopped by Frank and he felt him grip his hair, his head being brutally forced to face the man. He concentrated in conveying pain, since he didn't need to fake the fear. "You again. What the fuck is wrong with you now?"

"It...it h-hurts, so much. And m-my head, they won't...they w-won't shut up..."

"Who are you talking about?"

"Th-the skeletons in the river...they c-call me, please m-make them stop, I...can't..." Frank let out a yowl for good measure.

As he continued to cry and moan hoping his act was convincing, he checked on Gerard once again. He was pleased to see his boyfriend pocketing what he was sure were the coins, but he knew he'd still have to re-lock the compartment. They had agreed that it was convenient to avoid any instant suspicions.

"They don't even frequent this part of the river, you moron. I'm sick and tired of you, you're just _defective_ ," the ferryman yanked Frank completely up by the hair, making his scalp burn. "You're of no use to me. I would free you just to get rid of you, but I don't think they'd want someone as weak and useless as you here either. So I'll just throw you to the river as soon as we cross to the other side."

By now, Frank had no need to fake the pain either. Fear had paralyzed him and he couldn't make his legs respond him to keep him standing. He was hanging by his hair and he didn't know how much longer it would resist until it was ripped off his head. He saw Gerard standing there on the horns of a dilemma. His mission was evidently still not over, but he seemed ready to abandon it to go in Frank's aid.

The ferryman had his back to the helm, his transparent eyes fixed on Frank. He only had to turn his head and he'd spot Gerard, hesitantly walking towards them. But just when Frank thought Gerard would end up haunting the river with him, he saw him switch his attention to something behind them.

"Excuse me, sir," said a voice Frank recognized as Patrick's.

"What?" the ferryman asked rudely. Gerard had gone back to trying to lock the compartment, which Frank imagined was a hard task without a key.

"Could Frank come help me up with the seats? He's one of the best at it," Patrick pointed to the sobbing boy the ferryman kept in suspension.

"You need _this_?" Laughing, the man released Frank at last and he simply collapsed, boneless. "I doubt he'll be any help. See? He can't even stand on his own. Pathetic."

Patrick gave Frank a pitiful look. Frank had never felt so low in his whole life. If the plan failed and the ferryman didn't throw him to the river, he would himself. He needed out of there and at this point any option sounded better.

"Oh...but...it's doesn't really matter, sir," Patrick pressed on. "I know he hasn't been doing too well lately, but he can help me while sitting."

"Whatever," the ferryman said tiredly. "Take that crying, weakly piece of shit with you if you want, but you go back to work _now._ You're just slacking. Most of you are goddamn slackers."

"Will do, sir!" was Patrick's hurried reply.

Frank's scalp and his whole head hurt so much he couldn't even think as a pair of arms sneaked under his arms and made him stand. He was dizzy for some seconds until he reacted enough to walk. That's when he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. Watching Gerard. Making sure he wasn't caught. His participation in the plan was as simple as it could be and he couldn't even do that properly? Patrick was half dragging him away when he began to freak out, flailing around.

"No no no...wait..."

"Frank, calm down!" the other grasped Frank's torso tighter. Patrick was rather strong for someone more or less as short as him. "Hey...what's wrong?"

"Gerard...he was still..."

"Gerard had ran away from there before the ferryman last spoke to me, relax," Patrick quietened him.

"Really? You're not lying to me?" Frank asked hopefully.

"Really, he's safe."

When they got to the cabin, Patrick left Frank in one of the few chairs that had been already re-upholstered. His head was slowly recovering, but he was still shaky. He was about to ask for Gerard again when he saw him standing in front of him with a grin.

He lifted Frank off the chair and sat down himself, holding the boy on his lap. "I did it!" he exclaimed in a whisper. "I fucking did it, Frankie. And you were _great_ at distracting him once Brendon left!"

"You think?"

"Of course, you deserve an Oscar." Gerard gave Frank's slightly pouting lips a peck. "But...how are you, babe? I know that was no acting once that fucker got a hold of you. I was about to just...leave that fucking thing open and go kick his ass."

"Glad Patrick showed up, 'cause said fucker would have kicked both our asses and you know it." Frank smiled, feeling much better now that the stressful mission was over. The second part of the plan was still to come, but they could let themselves enjoy that first triumph for a moment. "I'm okay. I'd say 'I'll survive', but it's a little bit late for that."

Gerard laughed wholeheartedly. "I guess so." He ran his hand through Frank's hair out of habit, but this time the younger boy stiffened under his fingers and pushed his hand away.

"Scalp still hurts like fuck, sorry."

******

Sneaking out of the cabin at that moment to make use of the coins would have been complicated. Some of the more obsequious souls were there, already giving Frank and Gerard dirty looks because they were cuddling instead of working. Not wanting to be ratted out, they dedicated what would hopefully be their last hours aboard to doing what told without a word of complaint.

When the job was done and the ferryman entered the place to sabotage everything they had worked so hard on, the two boys ran towards the ship's bow. They wished they could say goodbye to everyone they'd made friends with, but they were conscious that it was too risky. They, however, trusted Patrick to pass the information to anyone he thought would make good use of it.

They looked into each other's eyes and shared a brief but sweet kiss, their hair interlocking in the wild wind as the neverending rain kept falling. Not being certain of what would happen next, they would have preferred a proper, this-could-be-goodbye kiss; but there was no time.

Gerard took the four coins out of his pocket and handed Frank two. "Are you ready?" he asked him.

Frank contemplated the two round, gold objects in awe. So small and with such little value for the living, yet so important there. Important to the point that a soul's fate depended on how they used them, and they had already misused them once. "I am," he assented.

Frank's right arm and Gerard's left one were extended over the railing, closed fists holding the coins. With their free arms they held on to each other with all their might, Frank tucking his head under Gerard's chin as they both stared ahead. The specters below were screaming, asking them to join them instead, but they ignored them.

"To the count of three we say it, okay?" Gerard took a deep breath. Frank squeezed his waist and nodded. "One...two...three!"

"I'm not ready to leave the world of the living," they said together loud and firmly. The words seemed to have some effect on the specters, who disappeared at the same time that the four coins fell to the river and sunk.

Frank and Gerard closed their eyes and waited, the air getting colder and colder around them. They felt the floor disappear under their feet but they didn't fall, only became lighter. Like feathers. Everything went silent and still before they finally lost consciousness.

******

Frank woke up with the only certainty that he was lying down in Gerard's arms. He couldn't feel anything around him and his eyes were closed, but he would never fail to recognize those arms and the way that body fitted his.

He was suddenly hit by a hopeful thought: it was all a dream. It _had_ to be. Everything that had happened was too crazy to be true, after all. He wanted to open his eyes to prove it, but he was afraid of getting disappointed. So he decided to keep them closed instead, and assume he was still alive and simply sleeping. That it was the morning, and any time now the alarm clock would tell them it was time to get up and go to college.

Then Gerard stirred and mumbled, "Uh...we're on our bed? Weird, 'cause we're on a different plane than the house, so we shouldn't be able to stay laying on anything unless..."

Just when Frank thought it was safe to open his eyes and before Gerard could finish his sentence, they fell through the mattress and right after that through the floor below. All Frank could feel during the short fall was a slight tingle in his whole body, and they made no sound when they landed.

 "...unless there's nothing but ground below the surface," Gerard resumed his idea.

Frank sat up and looked around, blinking repeatedly. They were in their basement, although it looked much cleaner than he remembered it. "Are we done falling?" he asked stunned. His brain kept screaming to him that it all hadn't been a dream, but he wasn't ready to fully accept it yet.

"Yes. I guess we'll have to limit ourselves to floating or just staying here until we get the handle of...interacting with the material world."

"Floating." Unable to comprehend any other word Gerard had said, Frank stared at him blankly.

"Yes... Oh, Frank-baby, I wish you could see your face right now."

"Uh...just... HOLY SHIT, WE'RE GHOSTS!!" Frank exclaimed. Surprisingly, it didn't sound so terrible when said aloud. Just bizarre.

His facial expression must have still looked hilarious -or maybe it was his obvious observation that caused it; the fact was that Gerard had burst into laughter and it was so contagious that he couldn't help joining him.

They laughed and laughed to compensate for all they couldn't or hadn't felt like laughing while on the boat. They laughed when they remembered that they dared steal from the ferryman. They laughed because they managed to get away and because even thought they were still dead, they were together and free. They laughed as a 'fuck you' but they also laughed because they simply were oddly happy.

They ended up rolling on the floor until Gerard pinned Frank down to kiss him furiously, lustily. Frank's arms flew up to Gerard's neck to bring him closer, impossibly so. Searching for contact, friction. The need for comfort replaced by bare need. And they may now be immaterial to the world surrounding them, but they were glad to feel solid to each other. As solid as they'd felt on the boat, but now being masters of their own time to do what they pleased. Well, at least down there for the moment.

They were still lost in each other when they heard voices approaching the basement door.

"Must have been some kids outside, Mikey," said Ray's unmistakable one.

"No, the laughter came from the basement, I tell you!" Gerard's brother argued.

"Mikey..."

"Go check!"

"Okay, okay," Ray gave up. Their arguments always ended up the same way, Ray couldn't say no to Mikey.

The door got opened and Frank and Gerard's first instinctive reaction was to hide; but when they were midway towards some piled up boxes, they realized they weren't supposed to be visible to the guys.

"Mikey heard us, though," Frank adverted.

"Yeah, I guess...that happens sometimes. Maybe he could hear me because we're brothers. Like...we have a stronger connection?"

"Possibly."

Their small conversation distracted them for a moment. When they paid attention again, Ray was standing practically in front of them. They would have sworn that he was actually seeing them; but as he continued to inspect every corner of the room to leave Mikey happy, they concluded that Ray had been looking _through_ them and not at them. It was something they would have to get used to, as strange as it felt.

"Did you find anything?" Mikey came down the stairs with careful steps. He looked nervous as he shuffled towards Ray's open arms.

"Of course not. Come 'ere."

Mikey sniffed, melting into Ray's embrace. "I swear I heard laughter, I'm not crazy. It sounded like Ge..."

Ray lifted Mikey's head, kissing his lips softly. "I know. You're not crazy, you just miss them too much. And I do too."

"Hey! We're here!" Frank waved vigorously, then turned to Gerard with sadness when he got not response. "Why can't they hear me? You try, Mikey heard your laughter..."

"Mikey! Mikey, can you hear me? It's me, Gerard...," he tried with no result. Masking his disappointment with a shrug he theorized, "I guess our presence was stronger right after we arrived. Or something."

Unaware of their attempts to communicate, the other couple carried on talking. "I know I've asked you the same thing several times but...are you sure you're okay with us living here?" Ray was telling Mikey.

Mikey fixed his glasses and let his eyes wander around. He didn't appear to be looking, more like perceiving something. He finally nodded with a small smile. "Yeah, as long as we leave what was their room alone. It seems wrong to use it, you know?"

Frank gasped. "Your brother is living with Ray here? About fucking time they moved together!"

"Ray better not hurt my little brother or I'll..."

"You'll...what? Walk through him? Blow on his nape? Watch him shit?" Frank giggled.

His boyfriend didn't look amused. "Wait until I learn how to move stuff around."

"We can do that?"

"Pretty sure we can... Like I said before, with practice," Gerard affirmed. He had always been the ghost expert, while Frank was more into monsters and zombies.

"Oh my God. Let's practice, then!"

As Frank clapped his hands, Ray turned his head with a start. Mikey noticed. "What is it?"

"Oh...nothing; I thought I'd seen a spider but it was just a shadow."

Gerard sighed and threw an arm around Frank's shoulders. "Can we stay quiet and wait until they leave to practice?"

"Such a killjoy," Frank muttered to himself with a pout. "Okay..."

Ray and Mikey were kissing again, but Frank watched Gerard's face instead. He watched him watch them. He admired the tiny smile adorning his lips when seeing that his brother, even if still sad as expected, was trying to move on and had taken an important step in his relationship with Ray. Frank knew, nevertheless, that he would have some trouble to keep Gerard from creeping on them too much, trying to guard Mikey's well being. But he could deal with an overprotective brother.

With all they had been through in mind, Frank was just extremely happy to be home, sharing the house with two of the people they loved the most. Maybe in the future they could let Mikey and Ray know they were there, and try a human-ghost coexistence like in Beetlejuice. For now, Frank was satisfied with having his friends close. For the time being, he wanted to enjoy their new freedom. And hopefully, have some ghostly fun with his boyfriend.

Taking Gerard's ring off his own finger, Frank placed it back where it belonged. "Because neither death, nor a creepy old sailor could do us apart."


End file.
